


A Jedi's Promise

by paulmydear



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Han Solo - Freeform, Luke Skywalker - Freeform, M/M, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Star Wars - Freeform, Star Wars original trilogy - Freeform, skysolo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 17:22:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13462938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paulmydear/pseuds/paulmydear
Summary: After the events of Return of the Jedi, Han and Luke battle it out on a different front. Mutually, they do love each other, but will that love surmount societal expectations and regulations?





	A Jedi's Promise

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is fairly short, I'm just beginning the story and hopefully you all enjoy it. Let me know if there are any questions you may have in regards to anything really!!!

The noise was muffled but the effect was still there. Looking for a place to escape, Luke managed to cut through the crowd and wriggle his way outside of the banquet hall, onto a balcony. To the peace, to the quiet. To the parading streets below. He seemed to never truly gain solitude. He rested his hands on the cold, white railing and tightened his grip. The people below were drunk and happy. They bounced in the illuminated night, allowing themselves to become immersed in the artificial lights frequented by parties like these. It was all noise to Luke. It wasn't a celebration, it was noise. The screams of music and the pounding of dance. Those two things would be etched into his memory long after this night. Not so much the acts, but what the acts were associated with.  
Luke looked out into the night and imagined the binary sun on Tatooine. Here he was left with a single star, now setting. Coruscant illuminated the cityline with skyscrapers. They seemed to rise with vengeance, competing with the rising moons. The Twilighters below lifting the buildings higher than they were ever recorded to be. Luke felt himself rising along with the others, his head spinning. The nausea swept over him in a whirl and he found himself letting everything out over the balcony edge. Luke wiped his mouth and leaned on the railing again. This time a little more coherent, but especially melancholy. He felt himself heave again, when an arm wrapped around his torso and held him upright. After Luke finished his business he looked to his left, "Who?" Luke blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes. Han.  
"Hey, kid…you're uh…you're okay, just sit," Han was in a suit. Luke knew this from prior knowledge. This wasn't the first time he saw him today.  
Han brought Luke down onto the floor of the balcony, his arm removed from Luke's torso and brought up to his shoulders. The two sat on the ground, Luke leaning his drooping head into his best friend's chest. His eyes closed, he let in a deep breath, breathing in the new suit smell with hints of alcohol. Luke could hear Chewie beckoning Han back into the hall. The noise was louder now, the words easily made out, the beat easy to follow.  
"Yeah, yeah," Luke could feel Han waving off Chewie. The Wookie grumbled, and the balcony door slammed. Han sighed and tapped Luke's head. "You know you don't have to lay on me, kid."  
Luke, still very dizzy, opened his eyes and removed himself from Han's chest. "Sorry, Han. I'm just…" His head nodded forward, and he held it between his knees.  
Han took a minute to look at the boy. His Jedi saber clipped into his pants, his pants stained with whatever alcohol he was drinking, his blonde hair dishevelled and plastered to his forehead by the sweat obviously formulated by the dancing and the crowd. Luke raised his head and began to take off his suit jacket…albeit struggling quite a bit. Han helped Luke remove it and the two sat facing the doors, legs sprawled out, a drink in hand (which Han generously offered after struggling with the boy's suit).  
"Are you…uh…sure…I should have a beer?" Luke let out, his eyelids half open.  
"Would you rather smell like shit or like beer, kid?" Han laughed, pushing the bottle to the Jedi's mouth.  
Luke figured Han was right, so he sipped the beer, watching the shadows dance and the lights move in the windows of the banquet hall. It was warm outside. He was warm. Han was warm beside him. They were shoulder to shoulder, like so many times before. This time there was a metal band between them.  
"You know, kid, I feel happy for the first time in a long time. It's a shame I never thought of this sooner," Han set his beer down and gazed at his hand. "I feel like I'm part of some other Alliance now, Luke. Getting back to the old days, the medals and all."  
Luke fought himself to look up at his friend. Han was staring straight ahead at the banquet door. The shadow of a long gown swayed back and forth, finally spinning out of view. Han was smiling his crooked smile. His hazel eyes held the bouncing light with extreme brilliance, rivaling their colours. Luke traced his gaze down Han's face, his chest, his arm, his hand. He held it there and reached his own hand out. He grabbed Han's hand, staring closer at the band. It was the lights again that mesmerized Luke, settling neatly into the glimmer of the band. They seemed to be drawn to Han, igniting the most extravagant reflections back into Luke's eyes.  
"It's beautiful," Luke said.  
"She's pretty beautiful, too."  
Luke dropped Han's hand and fixed his gaze at his feet. "She's been told," Luke countered. He felt the melancholy fill him. It poked holes in his veins, his arteries, his intestines, and spilled out into the dark crevices within his body. When his best friend first joined him, he left the world of the unhappy drunkard and felt anew in Han's presence. Again, he was back. Luke Skywalker did not drink. But, alas, dear reader, here he was. Downing three shots of whiskey, two glasses of wine, a bit of malt, and a lot of champagne, Luke was roughly hammered. Luke assumed Han had twice the amount, but he avoided asking the question.  
Han flinched at the Jedi's statement. "I told you, kid. Lay off tonight. I know you're out to lunch, but I sure am not." Han took another swing of his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his shirt sleeve. He placed his beer on the ground, just missing the correct angle. The bottle fell on its side, the noise startling Luke. The Jedi jumped at the sound, taking the notice of his friend. Han ignored the rolling beer bottle and turned back to Luke.  
"It's a real dream tonight, Luke. Did last week mean nothing to you at all? I really lucked out, and you're stuck in your head," Han scoffed and let his back fall into the railing posts.  
Luke looked up at Han in pure astonishment. Last week was the one memory which Luke carried with him everywhere. He slept with the concept, dreamt of the events, and factored in every moment, analyzing them carefully and concisely. Last week was a dream. Tonight was the ever ebbing and throbbing nightmare. The thought had never occurred to him that tonight would be real. That these emblems of his survival and happiness intertwined so tightly in ways in which his own actions could not corrupt. The night was warm, yes. The night was lively, yes. All of these signs were pushing towards a soft, dreamy sleep. One where the hints of vomit and alcohol preyed on those which relished in a good time. The lack of the 'good' surrounding Luke on this night tore him away from those opportunities.  
"I'm really sorry, Han. You kn…n…now about last week," the Jedi was slurring immensely…struggling to match up his thoughts with his vocals. "I'm a little too open with the beers and the wines and the champagnes. I'm just a little too open…a little open," Luke was smiling. He knew how sad he was. The voice inside his head was the only coherent one he had heard, but he could not express its validity. Luke grasped onto Han's arm, onto the dark material of his suit jacket. He felt his hand bleed through the soft cotton, to the surface of Han's skin, into his bloodstream. He longed to be rid of the circulation and float in the extracellular plasm. Feeling what one had never dreamt to feel. What she had never thought to feel. Luke could feel Han allowing his presence, opening up the gates, letting him reside. He was welcomed by Han. The stream with which he came sent flowers to his doorstep. Luke took them up with happiness and made a mental note to water and feed the gifts.  
The balcony door slammed.  
Luke, thrust back into the bloodstream and up through the skin, breaking into the thick top epithelium, rupturing through…silking silently through the waves of cotton, back to Han. Externally.  
Han was far. Han was being held, but he was far. Chewie appeared on the balcony, blurrier than previously. Chewie grumbled a bit, more muffled than previously. The coherent Luke had turned down the brightness, had turned down the volume. Was it that soft, dreamy sleep he had wanted?


End file.
